


Deleted Scenes from an Old—Now Changed and New-ish—Thing

by NikStrata



Category: Original Work
Genre: Just for the hell of it, Made up sign language, No Romance, No Sex, No Smut, Other, Tbh idk what i'm doing, a thing i've worked on for literal years that's no where close to being done, he was right, i have a lot of characters in these two chapters and i hate it, i haven't looked at this in several months, mentions of magic, mute character, my professor said it wasn't going anywhere, non-speaking character, so i'm gonna post it here, sorry about that, there are prolly a lot of errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikStrata/pseuds/NikStrata
Summary: I first thought of this back in 2018, when I graduated high school and bought a switch and BotW—played the game for months and then felt inspired to writeI had fun writing it, but I don't think I'm gonna include these two chapters in the thing—if I ever actually finish itSummary:Elf Boi gets a Title through means similar to the Wing Ceremony from LoZ:SS... ish
Kudos: 1





	1. Eastern Aylkol Forest

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter names are where the chapter starts, like what pops up in the corner of the screen in video games (BotW is honestly the one that comes to mind)

The symphonic sound of metal on metal rang throughout the training grounds, earning a grunt from those who caused it.

Afza gritted his teeth with effort as he glared at his taller opponent.

“You’re gonna hafta try harder than that if ya wanna beat me,” Akera laughed, swinging her sword at him again.

She probably would’ve gotten his head if he hadn’t raised his shield in time. He grunted as he shoved her away with enough force to send her rolling on the dirt beneath their feet. Akera giggled. “Keep it up!”

Afza waited for her to get to her feet before charging at her. Akera met him halfway, swinging her sword with controlled strength—just what he expected from someone who specialized in swordplay. She pulled her sword back, and he felt a familiar nervousness, raising his shield, his eyes closing.

The blow never came. Instead, he heard heavy breathing and the sound of a sword hitting the ground. “Y’know,” Akera panted, prompting Afza to open his eyes, “you were doing really well ‘till you closed your eyes. What happened? D’ja get scared?”

He looked at her, blinked, and started to sign a quick reply,  _ “I don’t know. I got—” _

The sound of something approaching stopped his hands from finishing what he wanted to say. He tightened his grip on his sword as he whirled towards the source of the movement, getting in front of Akera. When he identified what—or, rather, who—it was, he relaxed and sheathed his sword, setting his shield on his back. It was Sobain.

“Good to see you up and moving, Afza!” he called over to them, pulling his bow off his back. Two quivers stuffed with arrows rested on his shoulder blades. He grabbed an arrow and got it ready to fire, aiming at one of the large targets floating above their heads. Sobain fired the arrow and snapped his fingers. The arrowhead burst into tri-colored flames of pink, yellow, and blue, and set the target on fire as it hit the bullseye.

Afza left Akera to join his long-time friend. Sobain gripped his shoulder tightly, meeting his gaze. He was a little taller than Afza, his eyes a little larger. Sobain had freckled fair skin and long green hair styled in a messy braid over his shoulder and mauve eyes.

Sobain took his hand off Afza’s shoulder and signed,  _ “Are you ready for this afternoon?” _

Afza nodded.  _ “Yeah. Just brushing up on some last-minute sword techniques with Akera.” _

“Good,” Sobain said aloud, still signing. He looked past Afza to Akera. “How did it go this time?”

“Real good ‘till the end. Good thing the Ceremony won’t require dueling. Although,” she walked over to where they were standing, “I have to say that _ if _ you wouldn’t’ve waited for me to get back up—if you’d have run over and jabbed your sword at me, there’s nothing I could’ve done. I’d be dead. Keep that in mind next time you fight something. Don’t let ‘em get up once you’ve knocked ‘em down… and make sure they don’t have their weapon nearby… or other weapons to replace the one you just knocked away.”

Afza smiled sheepishly at her and nodded. He’d have to keep that in mind.

Sobain tapped his shoulder.  _ “Aunt Deralno wants to see you before the Ceremony,” _ he signed.

Afza raised a curious brow at that.  _ “Okay. You know why?” _

“No idea.” He turned to Akera, flicking his hair off his shoulder. “We’ve gotta go,” he said aloud. Akera didn’t know sign language and had been throwing curious looks between them during their exchange.

Afza nodded and turned to Akera. He clapped his hands together to get her attention before pulling his sword from its sheath and writing  “Thank you for the training and the tips” in the dirt at her feet.

“No problem,” she waved it off with a grin. “Happy to help. Come on back if you wanna train some more.”

Sobain pulled on his arm. “C’mon, buddy. We need to drop by the house or anything?”

_ “Yeah. I need to get my bow and quiver.” _

They made their way back to Afza’s house. The trees in the Aylkol Forest were large enough to support a house. His home was at the top of a tree near the outskirts on the Eastern Settlement. He liked it there because he could pretty much do whatever he pleased without bothering any of his fellow Forest folk.

As they climbed up the ladder, a cool breeze swept over them, counteracting the heat they felt from the morning sun beating down their backs. The scent of the wood was revitalizing and Afza suddenly wanted to stay home just to soak it in. But staying home wouldn’t get him a title.

They walked into his small home, seeing his workout mat on the wooden floor in front of the bookshelf in the corner of the living room. He turned to look at Sobain, raising a brow at the man as he pointed to the mat.

_ “What, did you not want that there?” _ Sobain asked.

_ “Well, not really. How am I supposed to get to my books?” _

_ “What d—” _ Sobain rolled his eyes.  _ “Just move the damn thing!” _ Afza watched as he marched across the room, picked up the mat and moved it out of the way.  _ “There! Happy now, Your Highness?” _

Afza let out a grunt of amusement before moving into his bedroom. The small bed was against the far wall, and a window was in just the right place to wake him up when the sun rose in the morning. His wardrobe was by the door and resting against that was Afza’s hand-made bow. On a small hook above the bow was a cloth quiver.

When he saw his javelin, Afza frowned and started signing to himself,  _ “The Ceremony allows all those participating to use as many weapons as they want—provided they can use them proficiently… Do I want to do all three?” _ He turned to ask Sobain for his opinion and found him missing. His frown deepened.

Afza heard him in the kitchen and left the room to join him. He was eating an apple. Afza grinned and walked over to him, snatching the apple from his hand, and taking a bite. Sobain gasped, a look of disgust on his face. “You—why would you do that? You couldn’t just get another apple?!”

He swallowed his bite and laughed as much as he could.  _ “I only wanted a bite,” _ he signed with one hand.

Sobain let out a frustrated groan, pulling at his hair. “You could have just asked me to cut out a bit for you! You didn’t have to take my whole apple!”

Afza held the apple out to him, inviting him to take it back if he wanted it that badly.

Sobain glared and hit the apple out of his hand. Afza was quick to catch it with his other hand and glared right back at him. He set the apple on the counter.  _ “Don’t waste food, you idiot brain!” _

_ “Don’t make me waste food!” _ Sobain signed back, still glaring.

Afza grabbed his apple and stomped away, taking a bite as he returned to his room and grabbed his things, deciding he  _ would _ be using his javelin. As he counted his arrows and finished off the apple, he could feel himself calming down.

After making sure he had all the arrows he’d need, Afza met Sobain on the wooden platform outside his home. Sobain’s hair was in a different braid than before as he stared at the rest of the Forest’s inhabitants. Children were chasing each other with wooden weapons as their parents picked up food and other supplies in the marketplace. Laughter seemed to dance in the air, and with it came an excited chatter about the Ceremony taking place this afternoon.

“I’ve never been to Qepril before. What’s a Ceremony?” he heard.

“Oh, it’s a special thing for those who train with weapons. Basically, you’re given a trial based on what weapon you use, and if you pass, you get a title,” someone said.

“A title? That’s it?”

“The title is special, you see. It allows the one what passed their trial to use their weapon out of their Settlement.”

“You got everything?” Sobain asked, knabbing his attention as he turned to face him.

Afza nodded. The added weight of his javelin, bow, and quiver—combined with his sword and shield—was a welcome one. He never got tired of feeling the weight of the weapons on his person. He felt even safer than normal.

“Are you gonna go see what aunt Deralno wants? It seemed important when she told me to go find you after I stopped by to check on her and Erivok.”

With a sigh, Afza started down the ladder, thinking of reasons the woman might want to see him.

Sobain’s aunt wasn’t hard to find. She ran a clothing shop called  _ The Silky Sierra. _

Shop owners in the Aylkol Forest typically hollowed out whatever tree they lived in to make their shop, but Deralno “simply couldn’t  _ stand _ to sleep off the ground,” so she did the opposite. The shop itself was two stories, with steps that wound around the tree leading to the second floor, where Deralno kept her more casual-everyday clothes. From the inside, there was a small staircase that led to the third floor, where she kept her formalwear.

They checked her living space first. While her shop was visually appealing to most, her home looked like windstorms had blown through it with all the fabrics she had scattered everywhere. It honestly fascinated him how a woman could be so in-tune with her surroundings as to know exactly where every tunic and tux was in her store yet have as messy a home as Deralno did.

It didn’t make sense to him.

They searched in each of the rooms on the ground level, and when they didn’t find her, moved to the second floor. Deralno was helping a customer pick out an outfit and had Erivok running the register, handing back change as other customers bought what they needed and left.

When she saw Afza and Sobain enter, she quickly pulled some things off various racks that strangely went well together color-wise and sent the customer off to the changing rooms at the far-left corner of the store. She beamed at them, her small gray eyes glinting with delight. She scurried over, her heels clicking against the wooden floor, and tightly wrapped her arms around them both.

_ “Good to see you, too,” _ Afza signed with a grin after she released them.

Deralno’s short, spiky green hair gave the illusion that she was average height. She was a middle-aged woman who could easily pass herself off as Sobain and Erivok’s mother if she wanted. She’d officially moved to the Forest after her brother and sister-in-law passed away to take care of her nephews, and she’d all but officially adopted Afza after she found out about his own lack of parental figures.

_ “So, what did you need me for?” _ Afza asked.

“Well, I wanted to ask you if it would be a good idea to take Erivok with us to the Ceremony. I mean, he’s only five and ten—do you think he can handle all the blood and gore?”

Afza blinked in bewilderment. He looked to Sobain, who looked just as mystified as he did.  _ “What?” _

“Um, Aunt Deralno, there’s no blood and gore at the Ceremony.”

Now Deralno looked confused. “What do you mean? There’s always blood and gore. Every year—there’s a duel between two participants, and whoever lives through it gets a title. That’s how that works in Eri’an—do they do things differently here?”

Sobain and Afza shared a horrified look between them. “Remind me not to visit the capital city around this time ever,” Sobain whispered.

Afza nodded.  _ “Only if you do the same for me. Should we tell her?” _

Sobain nodded and started explaining the Ceremony in the Aylkol Forest. When he finished, Deralno looked like she was questioning everything she’d ever known but donned a sweet smile.

“If that’s all there is, then he can go,” she muttered to herself, looking at the sleeve of a red tunic. She met their gazes again. “I have to get back to work, but I look forward to seeing you in the Ceremony this afternoon, Afza.”

Afza nodded.  _ “I look forward to seeing you there too, ma’am.” _

Deralno set a hand on her hip. “Oh, stop that formal nonsense, Afza. You’re just as much family to me as my boys, and you know it.”

He simply smiled and watched her get back to work. He and Sobain left  _ The Silky Sierra _ and decided to go to the market while they waited for the Ceremony to start. At one of the many fruit stands, Afza spotted a woman casting an ice spell to keep her fruit cold and a man not too far from her was cooking some meat with fire magic. Several children no older than Erivok were working together to cast a spell that would allow slow, melodic music to flow through the air.

As they neared a fruit stand, Afza thought he heard a voice called out to Sobain. He tapped his shoulder.  _ “Did you hear someone just now?” _

Sobain shrugged. They bought a few apples and peaches, and started back towards Afza’s house as a new voice called behind them, “Do you know how long it took me to find you?!”

They turned to see Srelinx, another archer in the Forest. She wasn’t a very tall woman and hailed from Músphelmi—the Desert Settlement of Arinia, a neighboring country. Srelinx stood out in the Forest with her long amethyst hair and eyes the color of smoke, which contrasted well with her skin tone.

Afza nodded to her.  _ “Hey, Sre.” _

“Need something?” Sobain asked.

Srelinx shook her head. “Not really. Just came to see what you guys were up to.”

They meandered in the direction of the Harkenal, where the Ceremony was to take place. The Harkenal was an arena smackdab in the middle of the Eastern and Western Settlements that was large enough to hold everyone in the Forest and then some.

_ “So, how’re the Ceremonies done in your country, Sre?” _ Afza asked.

Srelinx put a hand on her chin. “We fight, and whoever does the most damage without killing the other gets a title.”

Afza nodded slowly.  _ “Are you gonna participate today?” _

“Yeah. Gonna use my bow, shoot some targets. What about you, what are you gonna use, Afza?”

Her eyes widened when he told her as Sobain chuckled. “Yeah, he’s gonna wear himself out really quick.” He got Afza’s attention and signed that he was gonna take their fruit back to the house before saying goodbye to Srelinx.

Srelinx watched him leave and sighed. “Have I ever mentioned that I’d kill to have hair like his?” She started carding her fingers through her hair. “Can you braid my hair?”

Afza shook his head.  _ “Sorry, but no.” _ He gestured to his ebony hair that was barely past the beginnings of his elfin ears,  _ “Sobain’s learning from one of the harlots in the Western Settlement, so he could.” _

Srelinx’s brows furrowed at that. “I could teach him if he wanted to learn without going that far out of his way.”

_ “I’ll be sure to tell him.” _

He thought of Srelinx’s little sister, who was born deaf, and wondered how her sign language was coming along. There weren’t many differences between Arinian Sign Language and Qeprilian Sign Language as far as two-handed signs went. The main difference was that Qeprilian Sign Language had a one-handed variant for everything. He decided to ask.

Srelinx gave him a tired smile, signing the words she spoke with one hand, the other raking through her hair. “Good. It helps that you two know it.”

He adjusted the weapons on his back as he nodded. They made it uncomfortable to lean against the stone wall of the Harkenal. They were silent for a few heartbeats, watching as more and more people entered the marketplace. Afza recognized most of the faces he saw and smiled at them as they made eye contact. He turned as he heard someone approaching, seeing that it was Sobain.

As he got closer, Afza noticed that his hair was down, freely flowing behind him as he ran. “I’ve got news!” he yelled.

“Well, what is it?” Srelinx asked.

Sobain turned to her as he stopped. “Um, well, Sre, this is really only significant to him,” he pointed to Afza with a finger, “and I don’t know how much you know about why it’s so significant, so…” Without another word, Sobain grabbed his arm and pulled him into the Harkenal.

Afza allowed this, noticing the somewhat confused—and maybe hurt—look on Srelinx’s face. If it was about the Accident, he didn’t mind her knowing.

Torches boasting blue flames lit the entryway to the Harkenal, which provided more than enough light to see. The further into the Harkenal they got, the more torches there were, as the entryway steadily turned into a foyer with two different hallways—one that would lead the audience to their seats, and the other for the performers.

They stopped in front of what was normally the dressing room for those who were performing in whatever event took place at the Harkenal. It was usually the sight for theatre performances, or music recitals, things of that like. Today, even though it was the one room that remained unlit, he could tell it was full of weapon racks, and there were no signs that aspiring artists used it at all.

Sobain released his arm and started signing.  _ “Word in the trees is that Verona and her family are gonna be here this year. Her, her father, mother, sister, brother, everyone in her family. You know why?” _

A choked sound escaped him as he shook his head. Well, at least he could take comfort in the fact that he’d been right about the subject matter. It’d been two years since he’d last seen Verona—since their release from the hospital. He wondered how she was doing—if she ended up like him—unable to speak. _ “Why?” _

_ “Rumor has it that it’s because  _ you _ are participating in the Ceremony this afternoon, and they wanna see how well you perform today.” _

His brow furrowed in worry as a frown made its way to his face.  _ “Who told you this?” _

When Sobain didn’t answer, Afza sighed through his nose and picked up a strand of his green hair for a moment.  _ “Why is your hair down? What happened to the braid it was in?” _

Sobain shifted uncomfortably as he pulled it over his shoulder and began to braid it. “I didn’t like the braid it was in, so I was re-doing it on the way back. When I heard the news, I rushed over to tell you and forgot to re-braid it. It’s got to where it’s uncomfortable to have it down.”

Afza slowly nodded, telling him about Srelinx’s offer to teach him.

“Hmm, well that’s nice of her.” Sobain considered her offer. “I might take her up on that.”

The sound of a large bell ringing signified that the Ceremony was to start in about thirty minutes—the call for those participating to begin warming up for the show.

Sobain gave a wide grin and signed,  _ “Gotta go. See you later, bud.” _

Afza inclined his head to him, watching as he ran off. He sighed as soon as Sobain disappeared through the entrance and stretched his stiff arms. He could hear others entering the Harkenal, all fellow participants as far as he could tell, eager to begin and finally gain a title.

He moved further into the room as someone lit torches, casting the room in the same blue light as the hallway. Afza looked to see that it was Leriont, one of the few people his age who trained to become a knight.

Leriont adjusted his spectacles and gave Afza a confused look. It was an odd sight coming from him. “Why were you standing in the dark? Have your ocular cavities started to fail you, as mine have?”

Afza blinked, taking a moment to process his words, before shaking his head. As for Leriont’s other question, Afza knew he wasn’t really expecting an answer. The others—those who he’d gone through training with—hadn’t bothered to learn Qeprilian Sign Language and stuck to asking him yes or no questions.

Leriont kept his dark green hair short and out of his eyes. He usually had a book in hand, but when it came time to train, he abandoned his books, replacing them with various axes. He wore the same Ceremonial gear as Afza did—a dark gray shirt under a light blue tunic with black trousers and combat boots. If they did well enough, the color of their tunics darkened to navy.

Herejin entered the room next, sporting the feminine version of the Ceremony uniform. The only difference was the boot length—hers came up to her knees as opposed to her ankles. Herejin’s locks were a bit brighter than Leriont’s, but it was obvious to everyone who saw them that they were related.

She grabbed a javelin from one of the weapons racks and momentarily busied herself with examining its length before she looked to her brother and Afza. “You’re not going to use all of those weapons on your back, are you?”

He nodded.

“Showoff,” she scoffed at him and nodded to Leriont. “Told ya he’d use ‘em all, Rion. You owe me two cren.”

Leriont sighed and reluctantly pulled small golden gems out of his pocket and handed Herejin two of them, grumbling in annoyance about how he hated to lose. Afza shook his head and started to warm up.


	2. Eastern Aylkol Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trial Scene
> 
> Elf Boi gets shit-faced
> 
> His friend has to deal with him
> 
> ** Read the notes! **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW:**  
>  Animal deaths (not really all that descriptive)  
> Drunkenness

The Harkenal took up most of a clearing in the Forest. The setting sun cast the sky in various shades of orange as Afza entered the arena, noticing that the stands were full of mostly green-haired people from both Settlements, and they cheered when they saw him. Afza couldn’t help but grin as he unsheathed his sword, listening to it sing over the crowd before pulling the shield off his back.

For the sword trial, you just had to prove that you could use your sword against multiple enemies. He turned his attention to the green-and-silver-furred roxis in front of him. Afza forgot about having to kill actual creatures for the trial thanks to no one attempting it the year previous.

Merekile and Zavarile, the leaders of the Eastern and Western Settlements, chose roxis this year due to an unsettling spike in their population. Afza accredited that to their lack of natural predators and because, with the Forest as their backdrop, they were hard to spot. But, in the Harkenal, with its dark stone walls, their coats seemed to shimmer. It was a shame, really, that he’d have to kill them.

The roxis looked to him as Afza set his other weapons off to the side. All six of them trained their golden eyes on him but didn’t move until he started walking towards them. They were all snarling and barking as he stopped at the center of the arena, allowing them to start circling around him.

His grip on his sword hilt tightened as he realized he couldn’t hear their paws hit the dirt around him, even after the crowd settled down.  _ This is only going to make the show more interesting, _ he thought, readying his sword and shield.

He sensed more than saw that one behind him lunged. Afza spun and bashed his shield against its face, prompting two others to attack. They tackled him to the ground, one biting down on his ankle, the other on his shield, aiming for his face. His mind went blank.

When he regained his senses, Afza noticed the crowd was silent and the roxis were all dead. They were sending a prayer to the Goddess for all the roxis to arrive to Her safely. His brow furrowed.  _ How did that happen? Did I do that? _

A painful throbbing in his ankle took his attention. He looked down to see that one of the roxis got through the thick material of his boot. With a sigh, he limped towards his javelin, gently setting his now bloody sword and shield against the wall.

When he turned to move back to the center, he caught sight of the roxis’ bodies slowly turning into small orbs of light before dissipating into the air.

Afza tried to glance behind him as he felt a burning on his shoulder blade. It went as quick as it came, though he knew what it meant. He’d heard stories of this happening but didn’t think he’d be so fortunate as to experience it himself. He shook his head.  _ Two more trials and then you can check. _

The javelin trial was more about how flashy you could be as you wielded it and less about how well. It was the reason so many of the guards stationed at the entrances to the Forest used javelins—the trial was easy.

Afza’s show for the javelin trial went off without a hitch. He started with it tucked into the crook of his arm before twirling it in a figure eight on either side of his body. With a slight movement of his hand, it twirled between his fingers.

He flourished the javelin with some difficulty due to the length, but he was sure it was still impressive to the audience. They didn’t know his routine. When it came to an end, he tossed the javelin into the air as it spun horizontally, kneeled before the audience, and then caught it with his eyes closed.

The heat from so many bodies in one place had him panting as he finished. The crowd was silent. It took him standing up and moving to get his bow and quiver for everyone to react. Their cheers nearly deafened him. Afza grinned, waved at Deralno as he saw her, and set his javelin down by his sword.

The bow trial tested how well you aimed. It was just shooting moving targets. Birds carried the targets and if you hit a bird, you lost immediately. The number of targets you had to hit changed for every participant.

Underneath the audience’s still loud cheering, Afza could make out the mutterings of a sealing spell, which would prevent the birds from flying out of the Harkenal. He smiled and watched as Herejin and Leriont, both in their navy tunics, brought out wooden cages. They released the birds into the Harkenal after another spell sounded to prevent them from flying over the people in the stands.

Afza pulled back an arrow with a shaky breath as he refocused. There was only one more target to hit, and he had two arrows left.

_ Patience to the starving roxis, _ he reminded himself. Getting in a hurry now would only hurt him.

With that thought in mind, he aimed carefully and released his arrow. It traveled too quickly for his eyes to follow it, but the target sailed back into the board with the others.

“He did it!” Merekile’s booming voice rang out through the Harkenal as the crowd cheered.

_ Oh, thank the Goddess! _

He let out a ragged cough that violently vibrated his chest and grinned. Sobain managed to get the crowd to start chanting his name. What shocked him most was that the nobility near the top of the Harkenal celebrated too. Usually, they sat up there, all poised and dignified, like they were too good to get as involved as everyone else.

The crowd calmed as Merekile grabbed Afza’s hand and lifted it into the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have the pleasure of introducing…” he paused for a moment; Afza supposed it was to try to build suspense, which Merekile liked to do a lot, “Afza, the Adventurer!”

There was a large fire that shifted colors in the center of the Settlement. An upbeat song magically filled the air and Afza could feel the bass in his chest. It wasn’t so loud as to drown out conversation, but there was a large crowd dancing to it. He wasn’t sure who cast the spell, but Afza found that he almost wanted to join them.

A long table with a large amount of food sat near the fire pit. There was a large amount of fruit, various cuts of meat, and a few vegetables—a rarity in the Forest. Old fire runes carved into the table kept the food from getting cold. People lined the table; mostly parents helping their children load their plates before getting food themselves. Afza couldn’t help but notice that the elders in the line were avoiding the vegetables as if saving them for the younger ones.

He spotted more citizens celebrating not too far away, his colleagues all quick to join them—minus Leriont, who Afza spotted with a book in his hands. He had a gathering of children encircling him as he read aloud a recently transcribed legend about a hero reincarnating to rid the world of a major evil in each of his lives.

A few of the children cast illusory spells that helped illustrate what the hero did, and Leriont smiled as he watched them. Leriont, back when they first began training, refused to learn magic; Afza couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted it now as he watched the illusions fade like smoke.

Beneath the smell of the food, the scent of kjarn reached his nose. He’d always wanted to try some, but until a few days ago, he wasn’t old enough due to its effects on the drinkers. Deralno persuaded him to wait until he’d done something like earn his title before he tried any.

He stepped into  _ Ole Nox _ —a small tavern run by the wife pair, Alma and Phíni. He saw Sobain as soon as he walked in, which confused him until he saw that he was flirting with Laiòns—the owners’ adopted daughter. Afza sighed and shook his head as he made his way to them.

He tapped Sobain’s shoulder and couldn’t help but notice the relief on Laiòns’ face as he turned to him and grinned. “There’s my brother! How does it feel to have a title?”

Afza thought for a moment. It honestly felt a bit surreal. He could officially take his weapons with him when he left the Forest. _“Good—unusual—like I’m dreaming.”_ He nodded his head toward the bar in the back of the room. _“Wanna drink? I’ll buy it.”_

“So long as there’s no alcohol in it—sure.” He sent Laiòns one last wink as he and Afza moved to the bar, where a few others sat. When they noticed his newly washed navy tunic, they cheered and cleared a spot for them.

Alma made her way to them. “What can I getcha?” She handed Afza some chalk and a slate board.

Afza gave her a crooked grin as he wrote  “Kjarn” as big as the board would let him.

Sobain thought for a moment before ordering water. Alma nodded slowly before she started on their drinks.

Phíni smiled, reaching over the counter to ruffle Afza’s hair. “Proud of you, kiddo,” she said as Alma handed their drinks to them.

Afza grinned back as pride swelled in his chest before taking a gulp of kjarn. It was cool and fizzy and Goddess-awful. A short coughing fit forced its way through his chest, and he shook his head, smacking his lips, his eyes wide. Well. Not what he’d expected, that was for sure.

Phíni let out a raucous laugh, and the other patrons at the bar joined in.

“Takes some gettin’ used to, dunnit?” One of the men laughed, patting his shoulder roughly. “You’ll get used to it. Now,” he lifted his new cup of kjarn, “a toast. To Afza!” The others joined in as Afza grinned. They toasted and drank, and by the time they’d decided to call it a night, Afza couldn’t stand without someone’s help.

*  *  *  *

Sobain sighed and wondered what Afza was trying to tell him. He was so drunk that he wasn’t really signing anything—it looked more like he was just flapping his arms. He’d managed to get Afza out of  _ Ole Nox _ , but now he had to get him to the edge of the Settlement, and then up to his actual house.

Sobain glanced around, not seeing anyone other than a few other drunks who managed to miss stumbling into the fire pit. The flames of the large bonfire were changing from a calm amber to a harsh white, like the moonlight that streamed through the canopy above them. The torches that hung along the trees changed colors to match.

A slight groan escaped him as he started to walk Afza toward his tree. The only other time he’d had to half-carry him like that was the day of the Accident. He tried not to think about that day too much, but when he walked around with a constant reminder of it, how could he not?

Afza tried to stop him from walking while still making attempts to sign. Sobain stopped and leaned him against a tree, pausing for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “Buddy, I’ve no idea what you’re trying to tell me. I’m more concerned with how I’m getting you up home.”

Afza let out an almost inaudible grunt and shook his head.

Sobain’s brows furrowed. “You don’t wanna go home?”

Another grunt.

Sobain raked a hand through his hair, which prompted Afza to point at it, and then at his own before his hands fell to his sides. His brows furrowed even more. “What?”

He grabbed onto Sobain’s braid, pointing at it.

“Afza, I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” He took a moment to study Afza’s appearance, hoping that would help.

His ebony hair was uncommon enough in the Aylkol Forest to garner a double take. The color was a nice compliment to his skin tone and his eyes were the same color as everyone—

A strangled gasp crawled its way out of his throat. They weren’t the same. His eyes were supposed to be violet, not swirling… golden…

“When did that happen?” Sobain heard himself ask.

It took Afza suddenly starting to fall away from the tree for Sobain to snap back into himself. He caught him as a thought occurred to him. Afza could always stay with Aunt Deralno—she wouldn’t mind. Sobain would stay in his tree.

With that figured out, he supported Afza long enough to get him to  _ The Silky Sierra _ and lit a candle with a snap of his fingers as he managed to get inside. He carried it with him and walked slowly, to make sure he wouldn’t stumble over anything and reached his room. He put Afza on the bed Deralno kept ready for Sobain before letting him go. He swore he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Sobain sighed and looked around the room for slate and a bit of chalk. He didn’t want Aunt Deralno to freak out when she saw the room occupied.

*  *  *  *

Afza wanted to die.

He was sure dying would be less painful than this.

His head was pounding, and he wanted to stab anything that made even the slightest of sounds. He could hear people walking above him and their chattering, though it was too low for him to make anything out of it. It didn’t matter what they were saying, he wanted them to shut up.

_ Sweet Goddess, Qehna, take mercy on me. _

He slowly lifted himself onto his elbows, glaring as he realized the room wasn’t his own. It was familiar—the positioning of the wardrobe, the small storage chest against the foot of the bed. He realized where he was and sat up further, slowly making his way out of bed.

Afza’s hand blindly went for the door. He pushed it open—an infuriatingly bright storm of colors assaulting his eyes. He groaned as much as his vocal cords would let him in discomfort.

Erivok rounded the corner then, a tray of food in his arms. He was about a head and a half shorter than Afza, with hair that barely brushed his shoulders. He was Sobain’s little brother, but Afza had always thought that if he was about ten years younger, he could’ve passed off as Sobain’s son.

He gasped as he met Afza’s sharp gaze. “So, he was telling the truth; they really have changed,” he muttered, probably not intending for Afza to hear that.

Afza let out an annoyed huff as he slowly signed,  _ “What are you talking about?” _

Erivok could recognize signs, but he hadn’t put any effort into learning how to make them on his own. He followed the movement. “It’s nothing. Aunt Deralno was beginning to think you’d sleep all day.” He glanced at the platter in his arms. “I, um, brought you some food. Figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.”

Afza gave a strained smile and signed a quick, one-handed thank you before taking the tray. When he nodded towards the kitchen, Erivok scrambled out of his way, to  _ The Silky Sierra _ . Afza’s headache only exacerbated from there.

The kitchen was as full of light as it could conceivably be with large, open windows at the dining table and the curtains drawn back to let in as much sun as possible. Afza, despite feeling like death, reveled in the light breeze that blew into the room as he set the tray on the table.

He winced at the sound of heels hitting the floor.  _ Qehna, please, I beg of you, take this pain away. _

He glared at Deralno as she entered the room.  _ “Please, if you’ve gotta talk, whisper.” _

Deralno, much like Erivok, could recognize signs. Unlike him, she’d recently started to try to make the signs on her own. Her brows furrowed. She looked at Afza almost like she wanted to tell him that she was disappointed he’d drank so much, and like she also wanted him to know that she was proud of him for not doing anything stupid.

Afza responded by plopping down at the table and starting on the food in front of him. He downed a cup of water as he finished, pushed the tray aside, and laid his head on the table, closing his eyes.

He heard the eardrum-splitting sound of chalk on slate and the slight rustling of someone putting something on the table next to his head. Afza peeked at it and slowly lifted back up, barely able to note that it was a bundle of herbs—norgaire and fjulmsip—known to cure hangovers when combined. He turned to the slate.

  * Get a pot of water and add the herbs when it starts to boil.
  * Cover pot for two minutes and then strain the water into a cup.
  * Drink up!



Afza nodded and gave her what he hoped was a grateful smile. He sluggishly got up to do as she suggested and when it came time to drink the cure, frowned. He hoped this wouldn’t taste as bad as it smelled. Pressing the cup to his lips, Afza turned it upside down and tried not to gag as the contents slid down his throat.

The only good thing about the hangover cure was that it worked near instantly. His headache faded and he found he didn’t want to stab anything that made noise anymore. He could also actually tolerate opening his eyes. Afza grabbed the slate and chalk and started to write  “Thanks for the cure”  but as soon as he started writing, it grated on his ears so much that he stopped. He decided to just sign it instead.

Her gaze shifted between his eyes as she muttered, “That didn’t seem to do anything about the color… or the swirl—” He watched her lose herself in his eyes.

Afza frowned, wondering what caught her attention. When he raised a curious brow and set a hand on her shoulder to check on her, Deralno shook her head, looking towards the slate. “It was no trouble. Now, don’t you need to go speak to that man who approached you yesterday?”

Afza sighed and nodded. Verona’s father, Diba, approached him after the Ceremony, asking if he’d like to guard their estate. He gave him the day to think about it, which Afza decided to spend getting drunk.  _ Time well-spent, if you ask me. _

It was only after he left that he realized Deralno and Erivok both made comments about something of his changing. He stopped and examined his body. Nothing out of the—

_ Where are my weapons? _

His hands frantically searched along his body, hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him.  _ “C’mon, Afza, think! Where do you remember putting them?” _

He closed his eyes and tried to think, but the noise of the Forest kept him from focusing. There were too many people, and they were all making too much noise. Laughter rang in his ears, along with the sounds of meat cooking over a fire, and the ambient music lilting through the air.  _ Why can’t they all just shut up? Just stop making so much damn noise so I can think. _

His tree came to mind as he opened his eyes.  _ “Okay, yeah. Check the house first. If they’re not there, continue panicking.” _

Afza relished the silence that came with living near the outskirts of the Eastern Settlement. The jumbled noises were mostly gone now, but that only left him with the question of who the hell was in his tree. He could hear their slow breathing and mentally prepared himself to throw them off the platform as he reached it.

Afza took it as a good sign that he couldn’t hear his own footsteps as he entered his home. He saw his sword by the bookshelf and unsheathed it as quietly as he could. He got it ready to use as he moved about his house.  _ Not in the living room or the kitchen. That leaves my room. _

He nodded to himself as he slowly walked inside and saw Sobain sleeping in his bed. His sword and jaw dropped. As soon as the sword hit the ground, Sobain bolted up, his breathing erratic. “Who’s there?!”

_ “I feel like I should be the one asking that,” _ Afza signed.  _ “Why are you here?” _

“Afza?” He looked at him with bleary eyes.

_ “Yes, hello. Why are you—” _

“Your eyes—are they still—Oh, Goddess, they are!”

Afza squinted at him.  _ “What about my eyes? Hold up, that can wait. Why are you in my bed?” _

Sobain explained the situation and how he’d solved the problem. Afza sighed through his nose as he nodded along. Now that he knew why Sobain was there, maybe he could explain why people kept talking about his eyes.

_ “Thanks for the explanation. Now, about my eyes.” _

Sobain through a quick glance to them before averting his gaze. “Check a mirror.”

Afza moved to the nearest mirror and nearly choked.  _ So that’s why they mentioned them. _

The swirling was something he didn’t like, but it explained why Deralno and Erivok reacted like they did. It was off-putting. The color reminded him of roxis’ eyes and had his mind racing back to the sword trial.  _ The Blessing! _

After finishing a trial, certain participants complained of a burning sensation on their bodies. The burning was a temporary side effect, but the mark it left on the body was permanent.

That had him almost ripping his shirt off his body and trying to look at his shoulder blade again. He looked to Sobain and snapped his fingers to get his attention before pointing to his back.  _ “Anything there?” _

Sobain moved to look and gasped. “Um… yeah, there’s something there.” His long fingers traced over whatever marred his skin. “Is this a… Afza, is this a Blessing?”

Afza nodded as he turned around.  _ “Has to be. What’s it looking like?” _

“A roxis,” Sobain said with a shake of his head. “I assume you felt a burning after you finished your trial?”

Afza nodded.  _ “I did, but that doesn’t account for the… change.” _ He pointed towards his eyes.

Sobain agreed. “No, it doesn’t. And I’ve never heard of anyone who got a Blessing that also got a physical change.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. There was a pause as he started combing his fingers through it, slowly braiding it when he finished. “Do you think we can find someone who  _ does _ know, or who would?”

Afza thought about it. Herejin, despite being the top trainee in their class, didn’t spend her time studying legends or religion, so he doubted she would know. The only person he could think of would be Leriont, but that was only because he kept his head in a book.

What about his teachers, though? Surely one of them—

He clapped his hands together as someone came to mind.  _ “Mr. Erovid!” _

Sobain nodded. “If anyone in the Forest would know, it’d probably be him, yeah.”

Afza then remembered his meeting with Diba. His eyes widened as he let out a groan.  _ “I have to meet Verona’s dad; I don’t think I have time to get the explanation from Mr. Erovid.” _

Sobain raised a brow. “You’re meeting Diba? Did he offer you a job?”

_ “Yeah—gave me the day to think on it. I’ve gotta give him an answer soon or he might find someone else and give them the same offer.” _

“Well, damn,” Sobain said, stomping his foot as his gaze turned to the wardrobe. Afza could tell he was thinking of a solution by the way his hands twitched—waving this way and that as he discarded ideas. His hands stopped and his face lifted to look at Afza. His gaze stopped before their eyes met. “What if I go talk to Mr. Erovid while you meet Diba?”

Afza nodded. He wanted to meet Diba as soon as possible, and if he had time left over, he could join Sobain and Mr. Erovid.  _ “Sounds like a plan.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your thoughts and feelings on this are much appreciated.
> 
> If I missed a trigger, please lemme know, and know that you have my apologies for triggering you.


End file.
